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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26426419">Anchor in a Drifting Sea</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkAfroPuffs/pseuds/PinkAfroPuffs'>PinkAfroPuffs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fate/Grand Order</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cigarettes, Coffee, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Art, Mutual Pining, ServantFes mention, Tenderness, The Count of Monte Cristo References, commission</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:15:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,001</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26426419</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkAfroPuffs/pseuds/PinkAfroPuffs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps sailors really do have a way with the ocean- or maybe it's that Dantes simply has a way with her. </p><p>For cold-hearted man, his cloak sure is warm.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Edmond Dantès | Avenger/Fujimaru Ritsuka, Edmond Dantès | Avenger/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Sailor and the Drowning Woman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Commission for panyum on tumblr! I had a lot of fun with this and I hope you enjoy it, as it was my first time actually writing Dantes, despite loving him dearly. </p><p>This is in two different parts. They don't necessarily lead into one another- after all, one is after Servant Fes and one is long before, but...well. I hope you enjoy it. The theme was "confronting bad habits" and I may have interpreted that into "taking care of your cute Master". Sorry!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Between the hours of god-fighting and Servant taming, Ayako aggressively carved out time in her day, month, or week to paint. Though she wouldn’t say she was as good as DaVinci, she certainly had a knack for art, and after the long days (and often nights) that Chaldea had forced on her, it really took the edge off, in its own way.</p><p>She was in a good mood, though. After ServaFes, she’d enjoyed spending time with a certain Avenger who wouldn’t let his kitty-printed pool floatie out of his sight. In fact, she imagined he was somewhere in her shadow as she painted- though she didn’t really mind. He had a certain kind of charm to him, after all, and for a young woman like her, instead of alarming, the Count of Monte Cristo was comforting above all else.</p><p>“Count? Where are you? I want to show you something,” she chirped, her eyes scanning her work closely. One eye closed and her tongue sticking out, she held up her brush before grinning to herself about how funny she was when no one was watching. </p><p>The amalgamation of shadows behind her felt warm; prickly to the touch and smelling a bit of cigarette smoke, he leaned over her very carefully before murmuring, “Oho? At such a late hour as this?”</p><p>“Well, you know.” She couldn’t give him a good reason for it, so she changed the subject, “Anyway, how’s it look?” </p><p>He paused a moment too long; the lingering smell of french coffee and the soft stench of void dust wafted past her nose as his boots tapped across the floor and he paced about the painting- acrylic on canvas. </p><p>His visage was very clearly on display; a man more handsome than he- or so he supposed- with a wide, genuine smile, and little flowers in the air around him- took up far more space on the canvas than the Avenger was comfortable with admitting. Still, it clearly had his likeness; the shell of a man who had lost himself in the abyss, the former victim of Goetia, depicted here as a man who was smiling. Smiling...at Ayako.</p><p> Heat. A very subtle kind of heat that reminded Ayako of black fire travelled past her and, with the swish of a cape, he breathed, “That...I admit, your prowess with a brush astounds even me sometimes.” Though his hand was over his face, it didn’t conceal the pink rising from his neck all the way up his nose, cheeks, and ears. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. “Why are there flowers?”</p><p>“It felt empty without them,” she pursed her lips, though she jutted the brush at him. “Don’t you like them? I like them!”</p><p>He coughed, hand brushing the brim of his black hat as he tipped it down. “Isn’t it time to rest? Even your more nocturnal charges have a hard time keeping up with you.”</p><p>“I <em> am </em> resting,” she answered firmly, squinting as she tried to figure out if giving it color would ruin the painting or make it better. Probably ruin. No...wait. The Count was really only full of three or four colors, right? And each with their own complimenting colors wouldn’t be so bad-</p><p>Her head was starting to pound, mostly around her eyes and nose. Maybe the blaring lighting in her face was its own kind of trial. Chaldea’s florescent bulbs were really starting to get on her nerves, especially after being inside ninety-percent of the time. “It’s too bright in here.” </p><p>“Rest your eyes, then,” he continued. “You’ve been standing there for many hours now...even Leonardo DaVinci says it causes an aching back.”</p><p>“DaVinci is also a NEET,” grumbled Ayako, despite knowing he was right. Afraid to mess up her (decent looking) painting, she carefully set it aside and flipped to another page on the canvas to stubbornly start on the next one, mixing paints at a speed no person should. </p><p>She could feel him watching her impassively. Though she would not look at his expression, he was slightly turned from her instead of looking head on; fuzzy in the brightly lit room, he shifted suddenly, his boots making more sound than the rest of his person until he was near her shoulder again. </p><p>Once more, she ignored him. In a less than precise manner, she began painting lines- strokes- that were in no way according to her vision, but she didn’t much care. She had forgotten the point of this new painting, all discomfort and rough edges, the looming sense of the unknown, of hard passing nights and cigarette smoke-</p><p>...really. She’d already painted Dantes. Painting him any more in between, without breaks, especially when he was right in front of her would be silly, right? Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it would be just what she needed to feel comfortable again, to put her at ease for another hard night staring at the ceiling, until her dreams that became nightmares washed her ashore like passing driftwood.</p><p>He caught her brush mid air and held it there.”Far it be from me to interfere with the arts,” he began, his voice smooth in her ear, “but you would do well to hide your hands from me, accomplice. They betray even the most hidden of secrets.”</p><p>Her eyes flickered down to her hands. Had they always been trembling, index and thumb having trouble steadying the brush? Her lips parted as she paused, trying to figure out how to turn this to her side, but could not.</p><p>“You’ve forgotten about your sculptures already?” He asked, gloved hand brushing against the bandages on her right hand, near her command spells, three red bands around her wrist. “Too much of a good thing...as they say. You’ve done more than enough creating for now.”</p><p>He gestured past her to the waste bin, piled high with discarded art to her left; averting her eyes, she used her free hand to move her bangs away from her eyes, the stray lock of hair against the line of her nose doing well to conceal some of her expression. Eyes closed, she took a deep breath and sighed before she finally put the brush down. </p><p>Edmond Dantes counted this as a victory.</p><hr/><p>Hours.</p><p>Though she lay in the darkness and wished for it to consume her, nothing came. Ten. Eleven. Midnight. One o’clock. Two. Counting sheep was useless- she could barely keep her mind on it before it got bored and lost count, but it didn’t make her any more or less tired.</p><p>Nothing. Not even a yawn.</p><p>The ticking of the clock was no solace to her; in the tiny room that Ayako (mostly) had to herself, somehow, there was still too much space. She rolled onto her left side, and then her right, and then swung her legs out of bed to take a walk around Chaldea, hoping it would clear her mind enough to sleep.</p><p>Though Avenger didn’t usually walk with her to bed, he had this time; he said the things he often did in times of great stress, strange things that lulled her into a false- and transient- sense of security.</p><p>“Have no fear, accomplice,” he’d said, “I will fend off the darkness for you.”</p><p> How was he going to do that when there was darkness all around her? Inside of her? Eating away at Chaldea? He couldn’t fight it all; even when they’d met, he had been stuck inside of a prison he couldn’t escape without her aid. </p><p>While it wasn’t new to be carted off to bed like a child, Ayako knew that once she laid down to rest, someone would come to bother her with some problem or another, so she didn’t hold out for any actual sleep. That was the way of things in Chaldea, especially since Roman died. DaVinci did her best to keep everyone sane and together, though at the end of every day she was just DaVinci, meaning that her own hubris and chaotic whims would eventually override any lasting call to order. That being said, any unsolved problems were passed through the normal avenues- the remaining staff, for instance (though not many were equipped to deal with them) and of course, Ayako herself. It had been strange to make them call her by name instead of “Master”, but most of them- the ones that mattered- got with the program pretty quickly. </p><p>Still. It was nice that no one came to bother her for once- albeit a bit lonely- especially since she wasn’t tired enough to hit the pillow and fall right asleep, so all she'd done was stare at the ceiling for an eternity. Or maybe two eternities. One can never tell in the dark. The hallway, though, was well lit and easy enough to move around in after getting used to for a few months (a year? Had it been a year?) and she quickly found her way back into her art room to sit on the stool inside to have some peace. At least if she wasn’t going to sleep, she could be around comforting things in a comforting space. </p><p>She put her head in her hands and sighed, though it came out more like a little exasperated roar. It wasn’t like she <em> wanted </em> to be awake- if she could get a restful sleep, she would! It was just-</p><p>Just…</p><p>She stood up and walked down to the kitchen. Maybe a glass of water would help, or a snack? Warm milk? Everything seemed like too much work, especially if it was just to go to sleep. Uggghhhh.</p><p>“I didn’t ask you to torture yourself,” came a chuckle from her shadow. “You are clearly still awake. Have the fairies of sleep abandoned you, Ayako? Or are you scaring them away yourself?”</p><p>She found herself pursing her lips, eyes tightening at their corners, dark, rimming pain from sleepless nights already crackling at her skin. “I’m not <em> trying </em> not to sleep,” she protested, hands folded over her chest, elbows on the cold of the table beneath her. After a moment her chin found its place on the cold, reassuring tabletop as well. “I’m just...thinking…” </p><p>Thinking about how many hours it would be until the daylight, how few she had to rest before she got up to do this all again...and again, and again...Sometimes (though she knew it was a somewhat cruel thought) Ayako wished she had been incinerated with the rest of humanity. Maybe then it would be someone else’s problem. </p><p>A hum escaped the handsome Frenchman behind her. She didn’t need to look up to see that he was there; he was always around at this time of night, guarding her dreams, as he said. She wondered exactly what that meant at times, but after travelling to the far east, sometime in the past, and being cut off from all aid except he and a sword master named Musashi, she assumed it wasn’t just empty words. </p><p>“About?”</p><p>Occasionally she closed her eyes to listen to his voice, just to remind herself of how soft it was, despite how loud and dynamic it could be. “Stuff,” she turned over, one arm under her head, knees brought up to her chest on her chair. </p><p>A soft laugh escaped him, the sound gently pressing against her chest as though he was right next to her. “Yes….stuff <em> does </em> cloud the mind…” His voice drifted off into the thick black of the room for a few moments, lingering like a candle just blown out, and when he shifted, she heard it. “Close your eyes for a moment.”</p><p>A pause. She wondered what would come from the friendly void for a minute or so, and what did, surprised her. “I am a well-traveled man,” began Edmond Dantes, and Ayako’s eyes began to drift closed at the sound of his voice, “and I once knew of a ship called the <em> Pharaon.” </em></p><p>She wanted to say that it was an interesting name for a ship, but his voice grew softer as he continued, his voice growing fainter and fainter by the minute. “It was a cargo ship, to be true, owned by a small shipping company that, upon entry from one of its journeys, left the owner near bankruptcy...still, it was a handsome ship, with a more handsome crew upon it...”</p><hr/><p>“...<em> away…go...away... </em>”</p><p>Fragments of old memories, ink splashes turned red in the sun. Rough edges, sharp corners. Dark. Calculated. Drowning, drowning, in that thick, calculating darkness. </p><p>
  <em> “Stay down.” </em>
</p><p>Revenge.</p><p>Justice?</p><p>“<em> They taste the same. </em>”</p><p>The pool is too deep to see the bottom of, too shallow to truly get lost in without effort. When she peers down into the abyss, it swishes about thickly, nothing like water. Slick against surfaces but hard to get rid of. Oil. Ink. Paint. Blood.</p><p>Knee deep? Neck deep? It didn’t matter. Old painters’ remains slipped past her in the waking sea, glassy eyes and calloused hands rough from sculpting. Fingers bandaged from painting, from sketching. Three red bars on their wrists-</p><p>“Ayako.”</p><p>The sea subsided. Sand, blue by the light of the moonlight, pressed against her palms and fingers; in the heat of the moment her eyes snapped open and she took in the Hawaiian beaches at night, a lone figure with a captain’s coat draped over his shoulders standing on the shore, a few feet from where her body in the sand. “...where am I?”</p><p>“In the abyss,” replied Avenger. “Where else would you and I be, accomplice? No more fitting is this place for us than Hell.”</p><p>Beads of water dripped down her nose and chin, eyelashes fluttering to keep the ick out. Actually, now that she thought about it, she was soaked. She lifted an arm and sniffed herself, though there was no scent. It didn’t surprise her as much as she thought it would. “Why am I wet?”</p><p>One stark white finger pointed out into the ocean, waves crashing against the shore just beneath his sandals. “You spent quite a while in there, admiring the horrors with human faces- as you always do.” A glance. “I pulled you out as I do every night. Why are you surprised?”</p><p>‘<em> As he did every night </em> ’. A sigh escaped her as he helped her up. “Oh. Yeah, that makes a load of sense, thanks.” <em> No need to thank me, </em> he’d said once. She ignored it every chance she got.</p><p>He was not quick to release her hand from his own, bandaged hands gingerly taking her own; after a moment or so, he said, “You fear sleeping too deeply. The shadows of the past haunt you with smiling, human faces, and you desire instead to paint.” He shook his head, obviously a mite irritated. “Fool! Am I not the guardian of your deepest nightmares and secrets?”</p><p>She thought that was sweet, actually. “But it’s beautiful here.” Her blue skirts swished a bit near her shins as she cast a glance out into the view. </p><p>The twisted frown on his face grew crooked; something about her saying so was so hilarious that he threw his head back and laughed, the cackle rippling through the air with genuine humor. “Even the most abysmal of lands have scenery! Come! Walk with me.”</p><p>So she did. Though the air was a little more stale than real Hawaii, the breeze more than made up for it.</p><p>“Count,” she began after a while. “Am I asleep?”</p><p>“Of a sort,” he replied. </p><p>“...then-” Her eyes lowered. Truly he had to be privy to all of her secrets, then. Those she’d told, and those she had not. “What happened to the other river?”</p><p>Her voice broke off into silence, and he glanced down at her to see her full on, golden irises peeking over his round-rimmed glasses. “It still sits on the horizon. Why? Do you wish to return to it as you do every night?”</p><p>What a mean thing to say. “I don’t have nightmares on purpose,” she snapped back at him, but when she looked up he was smiling. </p><p>“Oh? But do you?” He retorted, a bit of an edge on his tongue. “You retreat into it like a turtle to its shell. With your comfort come nightmares, come guilt of times you can’t change.”</p><p>She pursed her lips. “When you put it that way, it’s my fault.”</p><p>He stopped walking abruptly, a flash of irritation brimming in his eyes before it curled at his mouth. “Fault? What insanity does blame make? Logic?” </p><p>One hand to her mouth, she stifled a laugh. He didn’t seem too upset by it- in fact his gaze softened just so, the tension in his shoulders dropping as it did. </p><p>“...blame is only good when searching for vengeance. Providence, much so,” he admitted, “but old crimes that have been acquitted, rights that have been wronged...what use does drowning in a sea do you?” He turned his head from her, the gentle breeze curling at the silver of his hair as he became so still, one might mistake him for a corpse.</p><p> “Sleep peacefully, Ayako. And when the morning comes, wake with newfound strength.” </p><p>She woke up on top of a soft blanket and firm pillow; though it smelled lightly of cigarette smoke and coffee, it was comfortable enough to snuggle into. Strange. No matter how much she snuggled and wrapped herself in it, there still seemed to be more of it-</p><p>Wait!!!. Wait a second. The scent and everything was familiar, especially the coffee. In fact, it didn’t even seem like the faint smell of coffee. It smelled like steadily brewing coffee. Fresh coffee. Fresh, <em> expensive </em> coffee.</p><p>She peeked up through her bangs. A partially obscured pair of golden eyes peered down at her, a bit of a sneer turned smile pulling at his lips. “Ah, <em> désolé </em>. Did the smell of coffee wake you?”</p><p>Rubbing her eyes a bit, she shifted to sit up. The firm pillow had been his lap, and the blanket his cloak, and as he sat there comfortably drinking a little cup of espresso she thought he looked a little more amused than he should in this situation. “Were you here that long?”</p><p>He smirked a bit more. “You seemed a bit tired when I found you. I brought you here sometime last night.”</p><p>Right! She forgot...she hadn’t been in her room last night...He’d brought her back here? Ugh, and she was so sore….her neck hurt… “Count…” </p><p>“I made you a cup of café as well, if you’ll take it.” He said, eyes closing as he took a long sip. </p><p>It did smell nice. He smelled nice, really. Maybe that was the same thing. “...I’m going back to bed,” came her response, and she tugged on his cloak to wrap herself in, which he carefully obliged to. </p><p>“Sleep well, my accomplice,” he murmured. “Who knows what horrors await you tomorrow morning?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Let Them Eat Cake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's not her fault she hasn't eaten well. Sometimes, food is just boring when you can do anything else. </p><p>Luckily, the world's best Avenger has a solution.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I’ve been going through the food budget again, and other than spending way too much on anything that isn’t rice or bread, a couple of Servants haven’t seen you in the cafeteria as much as they’d like,” began DaVinci, which made Ayako groan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be tongue and cheek to begin with, ‘You aren’t my mother’, so instead she said, “I’m perfectly fine, you know. I eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You eat.” DaVinci repeated with a frozen smile. “I’d own to that, though you don’t seem to eat at healthy intervals. Romani suggested you might have some sort of clinical stress, like PTSD,” she flipped through the papers on her clipboard. “I mean, we’re all struggling a bit right now, but I wanted to be sure you’re more taken care of than most.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grimaced. “I can take care of myself-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shadow beneath her suddenly felt heavy, rising just above her head in a manner that would be menacing to anyone but the two ladies present. “‘Can’ is correct. ‘Will’ is subjective.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Avenger,” smiled DaVinci, “interesting that you’d decide to grace us with your presence today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it?” He asked, the flickering darkness coalescing into a more humanoid form. “Or is it interesting that I’ve revealed myself before </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Caster?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leonardo DaVinci’s lip twitched at one corner. One might think she was amused at his statement, or maybe even a little pleased with the question. “Well, that aside,” she continued, “that’s two votes against you, Ayako! So, what do you say? I was thinking we’d put you on a special diet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span> that sounded worse than anything she could have ever suggested. “A what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Special diet.” DaVinci repeated, marking off something on her clipboard. “Meaning, three meals at appropriate intervals no matter what, with the right amount of fiber, starch, fruits, vegetables, etcetera! Can’t have humanity’s last Master walking around like a zombie, can we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cringed inwardly. “I don’t want to….” She already felt like a zombie when thinking about it. “I’m fine! Look! You can even check my weight!” She cried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, yeah, we did that,” Romani Archaman called out from the back. Though he’d waited quite a while to make his appearance, now that he had, his hair was clearly out of place for searching through files for the strange folder he was holding in his hands- which, for some reason, filled Ayako with a sense of foreboding. “We’ve given you your space and all, but uhm, we’re kind of….concerned.” A white, gloved hand reached out to flip through the manila folder- albeit tentatively, as he had noticed Edmond and the two were the same height, Roman slouching and Dantes upright- and his index finger traced down to the weights he’d taken for the young Master from the beginning of her time at Chaldea to the present. “You’re downright malnourished compared to when you first got here, and you’ve never been too big to begin with!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s right,” Dantes murmured. “Look closely, Ayako. I doubt the two have much time to lie-” His gaze flickered to Roman for some reason, a wry smile curling at one corner of his lips. “At least about such trivial matters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roman cleared his throat a bit (nervously? weird.) and sort of nodded. “Right, yeah, so I support this diet, 100%. We’ve also laid out the plans to the Servants who suggested it-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Staff,” Ayako found herself correcting him, as she still disliked the word ‘Servant’ and Master, especially at times like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...right, the staff that suggested it,” Romani nodded. “And everyone’s in agreement okay? To start right away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason DaVinci and Roman were looking at her expectantly now. Almost like they wanted her okay on something they had already decided. And Romani was sweating. Like, a lot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They await your verbal agreement,” Dantes said over her, though he sounded more than a little amused at the situation. “As do I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So now all three of them were looking at her with mildly amused (and sweaty) looks. “...fine. If it will make you all feel better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roman let out a sigh of relief so big his eyes closed with it. DaVinci hummed as though she’d gotten another something she’d wanted. And Edmond...well, Edmond just closed his eyes and smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You all seem really invested in this.” Ayako mumbled, crossing her arms across her chest. “Well, whatever. What’ve you got for me?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The first meal, apparently, was some kind of stew. To be completely honest, it didn’t bother her; once she’d gotten it into a bowl and ate some, like normal, she just lost interest partway. There were a ton of other things to do when eating meals, and multitasking with other things, like watching television or fixing an art project gone awry (to no avail). In fact, it wasn’t until she found herself inside of the studio, sculpting something that hadn’t quite taken form, that Dantes said, “How much have you eaten today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I ate.” She answered simply, sticking her tongue out as she tried to get the expression right. “I had that...uhh...soup. A few minutes ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soup,” he mused. “Around what time did you have this soup?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A few minutes ago! Weren’t you listening, Count?” She scowled, knowing it would help her with the expression more than the other weird face she’d been making.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” Came the response, and then a short laugh. “Kuhah….then how have two dishes passed since the soup?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pair of bandaged, calloused fingers paused in the plaster, eyebrows rising so high they disappeared in her hairline. “Huh.” She blinked rapidly. “...what? Wait let me see-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a flourish, he whipped his cloak aside to reveal his gloved hand holding a small, golden pocket watch; to emphasize his point, he spun the face to show her the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“HUH? WHAT?” Eight at night. Close to bedtime. Or closer, depending on when she finally decided to snuggle under the blankets with the Count and sleep comfortably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem confused,” he grinned, “let me spell it out for you. Three meals, with half of one eaten. What you need is not a new diet, accomplice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pressed her lips together. “So I was right! Hah~!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He put a finger to his lips to shush her. “You need </span>
  <em>
    <span>motivation</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he grinned. It was a strange sort of grin that she didn’t know what to do with, so she squinted at him. “What? What are you thinking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Avenger didn’t answer.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“So, the way it works is that, every time you eat something, we take it down on the chart,” explained Roman. “We don’t have to watch you eat it, and you don’t have to eat the whole thing in one go- heck, I don’t mind if you just eat some parts of a sandwich at different intervals! All we need is for you to eat on a consistent schedule, and at the end of the week, we’ll take your weight and see if it works.” He exposed his palms. “Since the first trial run didn’t work, we figured out some tweaks and that it may actually have more to do with your attention span, so why don’t we try extra stimulation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was always kind of weird when he talked more like a doctor. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he did, in fact, practice medicine, even though he was kind of weak kneed and cowardly. Actually, it was better to forget, because Ayako was sometimes intimidated by how quickly and easily he sounded like someone who worked at the local hospital. “What do you mean by extra stimulation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhhhhhm.” The doctor rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. “Right, yeah, we decided to leave that to Ed-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A rather rough throat clearing cut him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I mean Avenger. My bad!” He exposed his palms again as a peace gesture. “Right, yeah, so! I’ll leave you to it! Good luck!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever that meant. “Well,” she sighed. “Okay. I get it, so let’s head out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cafeteria was sparse today. Most tables that were filled with miscellaneous “temporary staff” were basically empty, except for a few very argumentative Lancers in one corner of the room, but at least four of them got into a miniature food fight once a day. Very suspicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After she grabbed her tray (which basically just had a piece of cake and a few “balanced” options on it, like apple slices) she plopped down into a seat by herself. Dantes, uncharacteristically, pulled up a chair beside her, though he had no tray of food to be seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” She smiled. “You hardly have lunch with me!” Usually it was Arjuna or Karna, but today, the two seemed to be having another competition amongst themselves- hopefully, not one that would need cleanup on a molecular level. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.” Came the response, though she noticed a bit of a smile under the black rim of his hat. He tilted his head downward. “Have you thought about what might motivate you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” she answered, popping an apple slice into her mouth. “I didn’t think that was my job. Romani said to leave it to you, so I thought-” She paused. The Count had rested his chin on his hand, somewhat thoughtful as he watched her eat. “What? Did I do something weird?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not as of yet,” he admitted. “You seem to be eating just fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>True enough. But as Roman pointed out, she was starting to think of better things to do. After all, she wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> hungry, and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should take it with you,” he added softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I mistake the paint for it and eat that instead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I shall hold your hair as you make space over the toilet,” he retorted. “We walk into hell together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dramatic as always!” She cried. “Fine! I’ll take it!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, the cake and the paint became friends. But hopefully not lovers.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“It’s been an hour, Ayako.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had it? It felt a lot like fifteen minutes, especially since she’d had the Count modelling for her, sitting handsomely in the single chair in the room behind her canvas. “What? How can you tell? I told you to stay still!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need only my eyes to tell time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well...fifteen minutes won’t hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm.” Was all he said, eyes closing. “Fifteen minutes...fifteen hours...the difference in a word is as big as the ocean-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t move!” She would think the man had never had art made of him before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s time to take another bite,” he said, smoke billowing around her as his face stood inches from hers. “Your choice...shall I take the cake or the apple? The gravy or the brussel sprouts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grumbled a bit to herself. He was really taking this seriously...well- “I’ll do it soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How soon?” So close. Close enough to kiss. The handsome line of his nose and mouth were so easy for her to outline with her fingertips-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she reached out right now and did that, she sort of wondered what he’d say. It would only be a short distance, right? And he might not mind. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> already slept together (in the same room) and spent most moments together, like this one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. I will feed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked. Then she blinked some more. “...huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was already holding the plate next to her, her own hands still focused on mixing paints. “Wait, you don’t have to do that! I’ll eat, I’ll eat!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He casually took the fork from off of the plate, twirling it around before he deftly sliced off a piece of cake. “When?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She contemplated a little, biting her lip as she thought of how embarrassing being fed was. “Mmm...soon as I’m finished.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ayako, that will take hours upon hours more.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t,” she lied, and when she turned to face him, he was looking at her rather intently. In fact, he was looking so intensely that she almost dropped her brush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open.” He commanded, and her jaw snapped shut in obstinance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like a child, she turned her head. “Mm-mm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ayako.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to eat on my own terms,” she insisted. “I’m not starving myself. I’m just not all that hungry right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> your terms.” He snapped. “Have you forgotten the agreement? You eat on a schedule and at the end of the week, they see if they are successful. Cake will not kill you; casting it away might.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn him! He </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> sort of right…Admitting she was wrong after taking a stance on something sucked! “Fine.” A bit hot around the collar, she took a deep breath, and, clenching her fists at her sides, opened her mouth and closed her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand felt different against her mouth and chin; holding it was less unnerving, less intimate, than having it cradle her face, especially without gloves to create a barrier between the two. She felt a bit like a Victorian maiden for a couple of seconds as he fed her that first bite, watching carefully as she was sure to chew (very slowly, somehow, like someone without the know-how to do it on her own) and swallow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Expensive cologne. That was the other thing. He smelled like expensive cigarettes, expensive coffee, expensive </span>
  <em>
    <span>wine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, expensive-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right. She was eating-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not...tasting Edmond Dantes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open.” He murmured, and this time she obediently took the bite and chewed, swallowed, and opened her mouth for more. “Ah...has someone changed their tune?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t quite sure of how to answer, what with how hot the room was, palms clammy with cold, anxious sweat, and maybe a bit of chocolate left on her tongue. That wasn’t fair of him at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thumb brushed at the corner of her mouth; some leftover chocolate, he may have said, she couldn’t really hear him, though she doubted he’d said it much for her benefit, as he dropped the fork- and the charade, with a hum of amusement- before setting the plate down and cupping her face with one hand.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“So! We’re almost done with the week now- you two seem a little more, uhm... chummy- but Ayako looks a lot better! I think we can call this a success.” Roman nodded to himself, scribbling onto his clipboard. “What worked, though? Motivation-wise? I know there aren’t too many things we have here, since the recreation center shut down- erm, and certain other parts are off limits since the accident, but...well...if you don’t mind me asking, how did you do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Avenger said nothing. If anything, he simply took out a cigarette and gestured to Ayako for a light- which she caught, digging into her pockets for exactly that. “I do mind,” was the response from Dantes, and he didn’t look at Roman when he was speaking, taking a long drag of his cigarette before releasing it out into the hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oo-kay. Well. Uh.” Roman scratched the back of his neck with his pen before shaking his head to himself. “A-Anyway, I’ll keep monitoring your charts, and you can just keep doing as you were! You’re out of the danger zone now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>DaVinci wiggled her eyebrows. “That means I can send her on crazy errands again, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No!” Ayako protested. “Wait, uhm, the week isn’t completely up, so! I have to keep up the schedule for one more day, right? At least? So I’ll do that before I go running crazy errands and shit. Isn’t that a good idea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From behind her, the ghosts of a smile passed over The Count’s expression. Cigarette between his fingers, he inhaled through his nose and let it exit through his mouth. “Kuhah- What a marvellously thorough solution to both problems. Leave it to my co-conspirator to figure one out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boooo,” DaVinci pouted, crossing her arms as she sighed, waving one hand. “And we just got a new shipment of materials too...Never mind...I guess I’ll get Romani to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor whipped his head around so fast his ponytail almost smacked him in the face. “Huh? What?!??? I’m not fit for hard labor! I-I’ve got work to do!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, now, doctor, don’t think I haven’t seen you in your undershirt-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deciding this was the time to make a hasty exit, Ayako and her first Servant slipped out of the room and down the hallway until they could no longer hear the two arguing amongst themselves, before she breathed a sigh of relief. “Looks like I’m only stuck with one more day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smirk pulled at his lips. “And what will you have me do then, accomplice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cleared her throat a bit, fist to her mouth, before she carefully told him, “I...uhm. May need a little help. With...eating. I forget a lot.”</span>
</p><p><span>A very long, rather loud laugh escaped him, shoulders shaking as it bounced across the ceiling and the walls. “Splendid! Then I shall follow you into hell, if you wish!”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Into hell!” She cried, and they stopped at the cafeteria for some treats.</span></p>
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